What It Was Before
by orangefriday
Summary: Ian comes out of a coma caused by a car accident to find himself feeling like a stranger in his own life. Anthony struggles with the idea that his best friend had almost died. Smosh Slash
1. Chapter 1

Ian broke a plate.

"I'm okay," he told Anthony who was there the instant the sound of ceramic glass shattered throughout the quiet home. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it, man."

It was suffocating but Anthony refused to let Ian pick up the broken pieces, only swatted his hand away and told Ian to sit at the table. "I'll get the food. You just wait."

Ian almost limped into the mess of what used to be a plate but Anthony's hand gripped his good ankle in midair. It was a hard strong hold. It was times like these that Ian wondered if things were always like this. He wondered if Anthony had always been so angry and frustrated with Ian. He wondered when Anthony would look at him with something other than furrowed brows and sad eyes.

"Are you sure you can do it this time?" Anthony asked, sitting beside Ian and placing their meals on the table. There was a hint of doubt in Anthony's voice and Ian knew it wasn't intentional but it was bitter to swallow.

"I'm fine, Anthony," Ian said between gritted teeth. "Just— I can do it." It was difficult but Ian managed to wrap his fingers around the fork. He lifted it up but the utensil slipped between his rigid fingers, clanging hard against the wood table. Anthony managed to pick it up before it fell to the floor.

"C'mon. I'll help you."

"No!' Ian said too sudden and Anthony's hand recoiled from Ian's. "No. I'm good," he said again, softer this time because Ian saw once again the wounded look Anthony had too often.

Anthony nodded and they continued their meal. Ian could feel Anthony's sideways glance as he tried again and again to put food to his mouth. He had little success though and frowned in resentment at the noodles splattered over the table. It took a lot of restraint for Ian not to burst out in curse words and break yet another plate, picturing it being hurled across the room.

"Actually, I feel like eating a sandwich instead," Anthony said. He stood up and offered to take Ian's plate. Ian knew what he was doing. Anthony didn't want to see Ian struggle so he tried to do anything he could to avoid it. Anthony always picked things up for Ian, always set the table, always wrote Ian's name when it had to be written, answered the phone and even fed Ian when Ian couldn't even lift his hand.

And Ian always obliged because he was tired. He was tired of Anthony always asking if he was alright. He was fed up watching Anthony's hand move from his side to Ian's, seemingly confused on whether to help or not. Ian especially hated when Anthony avoided his gaze but when their eyes did meet, it was never anything Ian wanted to see.

Ian grabbed Anthony's wrist before he could take the plate. "J-Just… let me do this, okay?" Ian sighed when he saw Anthony's bottom lip jut out just slightly. "I can do it, alright?"

Anthony sat down again, defeated, and watched as Ian tried again to fit his quivering tight fingers around the thin metal of the fork. It rattled against the plate and Ian put his face close, thinking less distance to his mouth would be easier. It was like all of Ian's energy and thoughts were stuck at his elbow and he could not, however hard he sweated and cursed, get his hand to move the way he wanted. It was so frustrating and he could easily picture himself violently killing anything and that is, if his body listened.

"Shit!" Ian exclaimed, pushing the table away but his wrist impacted at an awkward angle and it only increased the pain Ian was feeling. The table teetered and the plate of noodles spun away and dropped onto the floor. "Fuck!" he shouted, his face red and hot with fists clenched as he roared, "I hate this!"

"Ian, Ian," Anthony said, all the while holding Ian's wrists and trying to stop him from hurting anything else. "It's okay, it's okay."

Ian could feel fierce tears welling up in his eyes. "No it's not!" he spat, digging his nails into his palms. "I can't move anything right. It's not fucking okay, alright?" Ian whispered after, a little beat down, "This is so stupid."

Ian could imagine Anthony's face now: frowning with eyes that would advert from anything that was Ian and shoulders that fell limp and dead.

"I'll clean this up and make some sandwiches."

* * *

There were a lot of things Smosh could not do without Ian. And it was the first time Anthony really realized how great of a presence Ian had made in their little world. Sketches with just Anthony didn't cut it and he had tried two weeks after the ordeal with the film crew to re-create something resembling of Smosh with just one half of it. The script was painstakingly hard to write and the actual act of putting it up on tape was even more agonizing.

Not even halfway through filming, Anthony called it quits. His mind was too cluttered to focus on being funny and entertaining. The camera crew felt awkward without Ian, always asking if he was sure and begging Anthony to just take a break and be with Ian. Plus every time Anthony turned around with a question on the tip of his tongue, Ian wasn't there.

There were no more Ask Charlie episodes or Lunchtime or Ian is Bored because all of those things required Ian's laughter and ridiculous faces. It required Anthony to laugh and smile and talk to somebody and if it wasn't Ian that was engulfing a tiny taco, it shouldn't be anyone else.

"At least the Smosh Pit Weekly episodes can still keep running," Mari said one day when Ian was still in that stupid coma. They were in the hallway of the hospital, staring at the matte silver of the elevator doors. "The website should run fine. You've got a lot of people putting up content still. We could even—"

"Yeah," Anthony interrupted. He wasn't really listening. "That's good, I guess."

Mari laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry." she said, sighing and rubbing her forehead. "This is probably not what you want to be talking about."

"Thanks," and Anthony tried his hardest to smile. "It'll be alright. Barry will think of something."

"Yeah, that's good," Mari offered Anthony a smile he didn't see. "Everything's going to be fine,"

When Ian woke up three weeks later, a million thoughts stormed through Anthony's mind. He wanted to hit his best friend and hug him at the same time. He really wanted to yell at him for being stupid and ask him if he was retarded. But what Anthony wanted most of all was to just look into Ian's pale blue eyes and know that he was okay.

Yet when Anthony managed to get the window of time to himself while Ian's relieved and crying mother let go of her injured son, Anthony knew instantly that this broken Ian wasn't Ian at all.

"Hey, buddy," Anthony heard himself whisper. He would have spoken louder but Ian looked nauseous and hurt. He was so small with his head wrapped up in white linen and cheeks grazed with burgundy red. "It's Anthony. How are you feeling, man?" Ian just stared back at him, face unmoving and eyes blank.

He didn't know what came over him but soon, Anthony's eyes stung and his bottom lip quivered out of control. He didn't wait for an answer from Ian, only fled the moment he felt the tears slide down his face.

Anthony walked fast towards the elevators with his head down and tears obscuring his vision. His shoulder racking violently as he bumped against the cold wall. He couldn't help himself but sob out loud only once, crushing his mouth to his hand to cover it up.

He had never been so scared in his entire life.

* * *

A fractured foot and a broken left arm was what Ian woke up to. Add in some broken ribs and nasty bruises and cuts. Along with a collarbone that could fit a strand of hair if you slipped it in and a concussion that wiped out whole pieces of Ian's life.

"It's a miracle," they all said but all Ian cared about was why Anthony had walked out on him like he was a diseased carcass. Ian had drawn a blank when he saw Anthony. He couldn't remember his name and it had freaked him out because in the back of his mind, Ian knew Anthony. He just didn't remember him.

His mother told him everything. She showed him all the newspaper articles from both the Sacramento Bee and even the L.A. Times along with a handful of online articles she printed off in hopes of cheering Ian up. She seemed proud of him for living, something Ian questioned several times a day as he slowly grew to learn that his body was completely mangled and his mind frayed.

"You went head first against a lamp post after flying fifteen feet across the air," his mother said too animatedly with a smile that both laughed and cried. "I'm so happy you're alright, sweetie."

"Anthony saved your life," his sister said, looking up at Anthony who looked uncomfortable standing in the room with the Hecox family.

Ian's concussion caused some amensia . He still knew who he was and only vaguely remembered his family. He hadn't known when his birthday was but when Anthony blurted it out after a few minutes of his struggling to recall, he remembered that he was also twenty-three. The doctor didn't seem impressed but nonetheless, pumped drugs into him that let the pain float precariously too close but far enough.

He could hardly move anything and he dreaded the day they would have to take out the catheter. Ian's head was always splitting apart into bits and pieces and flashes of memories that he could not put together. Sometimes he'd remember days where he and Anthony would be together, lazing in front of the television or laughing at something that took their breaths away for too long. Sometimes he would remember working long hours and staring at a screen with a chin on a sweaty palm. Sometimes when Anthony visited Ian and they talked and looked at each other, Ian could not remember a thing except that he was missing something.

"What kind of car hit me?" Ian asked one day, trying to smile but his lips were chapped and broken. "Felt like a fire truck."

Ian had a vision of Anthony laughing, head back and mouth wide open but Anthony only stared back. "I don't remember, man."

Physical therapy took over his life. Rolling tennis balls and picking up various building blocks and putting them into a bin made Ian's skin crawl with fire and his jaw ache from all the tense teeth grinding. Learning to stand would be a completely new obstacle once his foot healed. He had visitors he didn't know, didn't remember and for every one of them, Ian felt so embarrassed because he wasn't himself and they knew it too. He wanted out and away from the damn hospital. He wanted out of the never darkness that was lit by dry white lighting and the smell of medicine invading his senses like an unwanted enemy. He hated the paper thin sheets and having to be wheeled around everywhere wearing mismatched socks. His mother had to help him shave and cut his face several times. Anthony was better at it but when he did it, Ian's skin went clammy and his hands would shake so bad that he would have to hold them still and hope Anthony didn't notice. Embarrassment and shame slid down his body like disgusting slime and he wanted out so bad.

Most of all, he wanted the life he dreamt of every night since the accident.

"How do you feel about filming something for Ian is Bored?"

"What?" Ian asked. Barry, their manager, and Anthony had given him the break down of what Smosh was. He recalled memories of himself and other people, always with Anthony, acting stupid and having fun. Ian also remembered the long hours of frustrating arguments and conflicts.

"You know..." Anthony started, camera in hand as he moved the hospital chair to Ian's bedside. "So the fans can know you're okay. We haven't put a new video up for weeks."

"Oh, okay then... What should I do?" It was two weeks since he had come out of his coma and just yesterday, the damned therapists had actually forced him to walk with crutches and put pressure on his broken foot. It was painful and difficult, especially since Ian had the hardest time making his feet move forward. He felt like a broken CD, replaying one note over and over again except the sound never left his mind.

"Just be yourself," Anthony said, then elaborated when he saw Ian's frown. "Show them your casts and we can laugh about how much the hospital sucks. I already took some footage around the hallways."

Ian nodded and tried to pull out from his memories the way he should act for things like this. He tried to remember how to be himself but as the camera's light turned red, he found it hard to know what to do. Anthony would say something to it and point it at Ian and he would just splutter out some half-hearted humour he hoped was funny.

"Well guys, leave any suggestions on what to do for the next Ian is Bored below. And I'll make sure Ian doesn't turn into a vegetable." Anthony pointed the camera back to Ian, expectation written all over his face as seconds went by with Ian just staring back at Anthony. "Say bye, Ian."

"O-Oh..." Ian started, then said hesitantly, "Bye, everyone."

* * *

The doctors had said Ian had slept through the worst pain possible for his condition. And his body was healing well and it would be soon when his mind would recover back to its previous state. They said he was remembering and that was good and nothing permanent seemed to be luring within the depths of his brain.

Sometimes Anthony would spend the night in the chair in Ian's hospital room. He would watch nurses come in every few hours, pressing buttons and tapping IV bags. They would give him a smile and a blanket or two because the hospital always seemed to be freezing. There were some nights he actually went home but he found himself unable to stay still and sleep was futile.

He should be asleep but every time he closed his eyes, Anthony's mind would wander back to the night Ian was hit. It was terrifying and as Anthony watched Ian sleep, he wished he was the one who had forgotten.

A call vibrated in his pocket and Anthony was surprised he had forgotten about Makayla. "Hello?"

"Anthony? Where are you?" She sounded concerned but Anthony heard the accusation in her voice.

"At the hospital," he sighed, feeling suddenly very tired when he actually had to do something other than watch and think.

"How's Ian?" she asked, her voice softer now and weary. "You don't have to be there all the time, Anthony."

"I know," he said. There was a silence on the other line before Anthony heard her sigh. Then Anthony remembered: they were supposed to see each other tonight. He groaned, smacking his head with his free hand. "Shit, I'm sorry, Kay. I forgot. I promise, tomorrow I'll—"

"It's alright, Anthony," she said too calmly. "I get it. It's Ian.

Anthony sighed again, feeling weighted. "Yeah."

"Well, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" Makayla said after Anthony apologized again. "Love you."

Anthony hesitated. "Yeah, you too."

He hung up, feeling even worse. He put his head in his hands, letting his nails scrape along his scalp. Anthony wanted to hurt something. He wanted to break something but he succumbed to pulling at his hair and breathing through his nose. There were too many things going on and only one thing he had enough mind for.

"Anthony?" a small voice from Ian and Anthony was instantly at his feet and at the side of Ian's bed.

"You okay? Does it hurt? Do you need me to go get a nurse?"

"What time is it?" Ian tried to sit up but his hand landed at a jagged angle and Anthony forced him to lie back down.

"It's almost midnight."

"What?" Ian swatted Anthony's hand away. "What are you still doing here? Go home."

Anthony sat on the bed, trying to feel Ian's head but was continuously knocked away. Ian usually woke up with a fever and Anthony would have to go out and find a nurse to calm it down. He didn't see Ian's angry face before he was pushed off the bed.

"Dude, what the hell?"

"Get off!"

"Look," Anthony said, trying again to sit on the bed but for a one armed gimp, Ian was strong. "I'm just trying to see if you've got a fever or something-"

"I don't, alright?" Ian was shouting now and Anthony worried some nurses might come in because of the noise. "Back off, you douche!"

"Ian! Just, let me-"

Anthony suddenly found it very funny; every time he got too close, Ian would swing his arm like a disabled helicopter, hitting him in the face or slapping him on the side. Pretty soon, Anthony was laughing, each time trying a different tactic to get close to Ian. He could see Ian's smile in the half-lit room, teeth shining against the navy of the late night.

"Stop it, Anthony!" Ian whined, ducking his head underneath his arm with Anthony's fingers waggled too close. Anthony gave a cry and hoisted himself onto the bed, crashing against Ian's body. He landed on Ian's good side, face knocking into Ian's forehead.

"Ow, motherfu-" but before Ian could finish, Anthony wedged a hand between their foreheads, palm slippery against Ian's hot skin. Anthony could feel their heat and breaths mingling together to create warmth he hadn't felt for a month. It calmed him and he allowed himself to laugh again, liking the feel of familiarity fill up his whole being.

He doesn't remember exactly what happened after that but when they had settled their heaving breaths, they must have fallen asleep. It was the best sleep Anthony had had for weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

When Ian woke up, he noticed two things. The first was that Anthony's breath stung his eyes. The second was that his pants were much too tight.

They were lying on their sides and of all mornings, with the sun filtering through dusty blinds and making the white of the hospital look yellow, Ian's body decided to jump start the day with a huge erection. He groaned, his hand itching to slide down and under the waistband of his pants but Anthony was so close; too close.

Last night had felt like a dream. He hadn't seen Anthony laugh besides the times his memories sneaked up on him but those things were always blurry and distant; like it had come from another lifetime. Anthony hadn't laughed nearly as much as he did making the awkward video for Ian is Bored. It made Ian feel normal and less alienated, as if he was the old Ian and not some broken replicate.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Anthony shifted closer; adjusting his head on the pillow they were sharing. The bed was much too small and Ian found his good side going numb because he was so used to sleeping on his back for the past five weeks. His good right foot lay between Anthony's shins with his casted arm heavy on his side and he wanted to move it but Ian was too tired to feel pain this early.

Anthony was so close that Ian could see the small lines near his mouth through the morning bleariness. His cheeks were flushed a bright hue of pink and his breaths came out in small puffs that warmed Ian's cold face. Despite the dark bags under Anthony's closed eyes, Ian liked this view of Anthony more than the one that was awake and usually too concerned. He found himself unconsciously reaching his own hand into his pants and tentatively stroking the ache. Ian closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly as he went faster and faster. He was lost and so hard as he curled nearer to Anthony's warmth.

Ian opened his eyes, catching Anthony's mouth close and open slowly as he murmured in his sleep. Ian bit his lip and tried to tighten his grip on his own cock, but his fingers shook. Too excited or too weak from his trauma Ian didn't know but it frustrated him that he couldn't even jerk himself off.

_Shit,_ he thought, stilling his spasms and letting go of his cock. He breathed heavily, desire and too hot fury welling up in his entire body. He tried to buck his hips to lessen his problem but it only resulted in shooting pains from his broken bones. Ian squeezed his eyes and fist tight, forcing himself not to scream. He couldn't even get off by himself. How pathetic was that?

Just then, Anthony's knuckles moved below him, grazing innocently the exposed skin right above Ian's waist. He cringed, tension and pleasure stinging him tense. Anthony shifted even closer and now Ian's hand was caught between his pants and Anthony's own bulge. Ian sucked in a breath, afraid Anthony would open his eyes and find Ian red-faced and red-handed. He struggled to slide his hand out that shook the whole way even after the waistband of his pants snapped hard against his stomach. But as soon as his hand was out, Anthony pressed closer and now they were cock to cock.

Ian didn't know what to do. He was too shocked to move but the friction caused by two hard erections sliding even underneath fabric stirred molten in Ian's stomach. Ian only stared in fascination as Anthony thrust his hips against Ian. He closed his eyes. White ecstasy danced behind his eyes.

He was nervous and so afraid but he couldn't bring it upon himself to put these warning signs in the forefront of his mind. He had never been so turned on his life and Ian vaguely remembered the times when his ex-girlfriend had given him a handjob or when they had sex. He imagined it was her that was grinding up against him, moving agonizingly slow but when Anthony grunted, Ian could not pretend anymore. He found it so hot that it was Anthony and the wrongness of the situation only heightened the mood of having his frustrated erection being taken care of. He knew he should stop this; end this but pleasure rafted his body away from common sense. So Ian opted to pretend to be asleep and blame his actions as a result of dreams that made him do things unconsciously. If Anthony could do it, he could too.

Anthony picked up momentum and Ian was having the struggle of his life not to scream as Anthony moaned and moved against him faster. Ian was close very soon and when he came, he had to bite hard on his tongue to stop his cry of release. Anthony continued to thrust up against Ian with a razor grip on his side and Ian's own cock twitched with leftover laces of hunger. Anthony's face was scrunched up and mouth wide open with breaths that came out quick and hard. Ian felt himself growing hot again despite the recent stickiness that had moistened his pyjamas. He found himself cross eyed and staring longingly at Anthony's neck that had a slight gleam of sweat.

Suddenly a sharp knock pierced straight through Ian's blurry passion and sent Anthony sprawling with the sheets to the floor as the other boy jumped about a foot in the air. Ian managed to crush himself face first into the mattress to hide his soiled clothes.

"Good morning... ah, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" A nurse stood at the doorway with his hands in his pockets. He didn't phase at the fact that Anthony was on the floor or that Ian was in a position that would not be recommended for a patient of his status. The nurse walked in, a small smirk playing at his lips that made Ian want to smack him. Anthony stumbled in the tangled sheets and got out of them with the help of the nurse. Ian still had not moved.

Judging from the looks of it, Anthony's erection was completely gone and Ian prayed his friend would not recall their little rub off, dismissing it as a wet dream that felt real but could never be possible in real life. Ian bit his lip, the reality of the situation slowly coming to his senses

"Had a good sleep?" the nurse asked after Anthony resigned to the chair in the corner. Ian couldn't see Anthony from his angle but he found reassurance in thinking Anthony would be tomato faced with his head down and mouth shut tight and as terrified as Ian was.

"I-I'm good," Ian managed to say, his words muffled by the pillow. "Slept like a baby."

"Great." the nurse took new sheets from the cupboard and fanned it over Ian's backside. "Try not to move too much or you'll find yourself worse than before. Do you need me to help you onto your back?"

Ian said "No!" the same time Anthony blurted out, "I can do that!"

The nurse didn't find their frantic faces odd and just said, "Alright. That makes things easy for me. I'll check up on you in an hour, Ian."

When he left, Anthony and Ian were silent for a few moments. Ian was still wondering how he should get onto his back on his own with only one side of his body working relatively good. He was so embarrassed and his face started to heat up again and sweat dribbled down his spine. He scrunched his eyes shut when Anthony came near. He could not believe what had just happened.

"S-So… uh, here. I'll grab your left side," Anthony said awkwardly and Ian's eyes flew open the moment fingers wrapped around his side. He gulped, remembering that just moments before, those same fingers had been holding on to him for support as Anthony – Ian blew the thought out of his mind. They had somehow turned Ian onto his back with the blanket conveniently covering the lower half of him. He didn't notice his face was still crumpled up until Anthony asked if moving him had hurt too much.

"N-Nah,'s okay." Ian stammered, avoiding Anthony's gaze.

It was a miracle because Anthony nodded then offered enthusiastically to go get breakfast, stating that he was too hungry to wait for the nurse. Before Ian could make up an excuse as to why his pants were wet in case Anthony noticed, his friend was out the door.

* * *

Anthony could not believe what he had done.

He was walking down the hospital hallway, only minimally aware of his surroundings and mumbling to himself all the while gesturing with his hands to his inner monologue.

How could he have done that? Especially to Ian. He didn't know what had come over him. Anthony must have gone crazy and Makayla was right. He shouldn't be there all the time. All this worrying about Ian was making him neglect everything else that was important in his own life and it seems he had been neglecting his own needs. Anthony will admit to caring too much about Ian but ever since the accident, he had become too attached, up to a point of abnormality. He shouldn't be doing those things to Ian.

He had seen Ian's hard erection with unfocussed eyes, let his hand graze in that expanse of milky skin, wanting to know where that trail of light brown hair lead to. He had seen through half-closed lids how much Ian wanted release, even in his sleep. So Anthony thought, in between his curiosity and concern, that maybe if he just touched Ian, it would be enough.

But he didn't know that his own body was already reacting even before they were touching. And it sent a frenzy of thoughts that made no sense but in the haze of sleep and want, made perfect sense. It was fucking hot with Ian whimpering and breathing heavy. And when Ian came, the shudder that hummed between their cocks was amazing. It was all unreal until he was punched right in the gut with the knock on the door.

"God, I'm disgusting," Anthony said to himself, entering the elevator doors and letting his head knock back against the harsh metal. "Fuck!"

The next time the doors opened, Makayla was there. "Anthony!"

"Oh, hey, Makayla," Anthony stuttered, got off guard. They embraced and she planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Her fingers found his while she stared up at him with a smile. "You're here pretty early"

"Well, I was just going up there to surprise Ian," she explained, "And I was hoping to see you, too."

Anthony smiled at her, feeling guilty to be with her after the events of the morning. How could he have done that not only to Ian but to Makayla as well? Anthony cringed mentally, heat sweeping the back of his neck.

"Oh yeah," he said, leading them towards the cafeteria. "I gotta get some breakfast for him. He really hates eating what the nurses give him."

"I bet," she laughed, going ahead to pick up a tray. The cafeteria was empty at seven in the morning with only the grim-looking servers behind the counter, filling the pans with food. They offered half-hearted smiles that left Anthony feeling obliged to smile back but his insides were bubbling with too much worry and shame.

He sighed, barely listening as Makayla rambled on about one thing or another. Anthony grabbed a muffin for himself and started to stack on food Ian might want to eat. Ian didn't eat much with the drugs taking away his appetite and for the fact that he always just wanted to sleep because of therapy. There was a pink-frosted sprinkled donut at the end of the queue and Anthony instantly grabbed for it, smiling to himself.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" Makayla asked voice suddenly humble. Anthony paid for their food, digging deep into his pocket for a couple of dollars. Everything was so damn expensive in hospitals, he thought. "Anthony?"

"Huh? What did you say?" He looked over to her realizing that whatever she was talking about was important. She was frowning and the same guilt washed over him again so he took his free hand and pulled her into another short kiss.

"Don't change the subject, Ant," she said now smiling. Makayla lead them to a table where she sat against a window. Her smile slid off her face when Anthony stayed standing. "Sit down."

"Ian's food is gunna get cold," he said, placing the tray down anyway. He wondered what Ian was feeling right now; waking up to find himself in that state and Anthony hadn't even begun thinking how he himself acted might have affected Ian. _God, I fucked up, big time._

He was close to bashing his head against the table before Makayla cut in, saying, "You should eat the pancakes yourself. And anyway, I can just get him some before we leave."

"Right." Anthony slid into the seat across from her, breathing in and wiping his palms against his thighs. He succumbed to eating the food when he saw Makayla's raised brow.

"Are you okay?" she asked, between bites of her eggs. "You don't look so hot."

"I'm fine," Anthony lied quickly, "Just that I slept in the chair all night."

"You really should just go home and sleep. I don't think Ian needs to be babysat anyway."

Anthony shrugged. "What were you talking about before?"

"Oh, right," Makayla smiled, leaning in close. "I know you probably didn't have time to think it over again with what's going on but..."

"Yeah?" Anthony urged on a little apprehensively.

"Well," she began and took his hand in hers, "have you thought anymore about the whole moving in thing?"

"Oh..." There had been jokes and hints about moving in together before. Anthony never really took them seriously until Makayla had asked him straight one day. And when she had asked, he had thought about it, even asked Ian about it.

Makayla looked excited and Anthony's guilt about everything, from ignoring her for the past month to the whole fiasco that very morning, rose up like black smog from a house fire. He managed to spit out a smile, shrugging again. "Uh... I have, sort of—"

"You know what? Never mind." she let go of his hand and put her chin in her palm. She twirled her fork around her empty plate. "It's silly of me to ask right now."

"Kay..."

"No, it's alright, really." Anthony began to speak again but she smiled and waved him away, standing to join the small line up for breakfast. "Pancakes for Ian, right?"

"Yeah," Anthony said, staring at the donut on his tray then picked it up and put it in his mouth. "And lots of syrup."

* * *

_Shit, shit, shit. _Did Anthony notice? Is that why he left the room in such a hurry? Maybe he saw Ian's pants and fled because it was gross. Or maybe Anthony realized it was Ian who he was rubbing up against. And thought that would be disgusting.

He wasn't gay and Anthony wasn't either, at least from what he could remember. Maybe Ian _was_ gay and he had forgotten in between the car hitting him and breaking his head. Or maybe Anthony was too and he had forgotten. Maybe now because Ian was fucked up that Anthony wouldn't want him anymore.

"Aw, god." Ian pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, feeling the rough scabs just above his eyebrow and the healed bumps on the side of his temple. He really needed to change into new pants. "I'm such an idiot."

"Morning, Ian!" a cheery voice said from the doorway. Ian was startled to see a girl with straight brunette locks holding a tray of what looked like pancakes. She sauntered in with Anthony at tow and placed the food on the bedside table. Ian made sure he was well covered, suddenly feeling exposed with this new stranger in the room. His cheeks reddening when Anthony dragged the only chair in the room beside Ian. "Wow, you look good since the last time I saw you."

"Do you remember Makayla?" Anthony gestured towards the smiling girl and Ian noticed her lean too close to Anthony who looked as uncomfortable as Ian was. She sat down on the chair, sliding her hand down Anthony's arm. "My girlfriend."

There was an abrupt stillness in the room and Ian looked from Anthony to Makayla, something caught up in the pit of his stomach. Ian felt betrayed in a way and it confused him. The events of the morning weeding away with Anthony's girlfriend standing in front of him. Why hadn't Anthony mentioned his girlfriend before?

"Makayla!" Ian suddenly exclaimed, false happiness dripping off of his face and pushing down his discomfort. He didn't want to look stupid, not knowing who his best friend's girlfriend was. "Anthony hasn't said much about you. But, oh, I remember you." He waggled a finger at her as she laughed.

"Well, it's good that you do," Makayla said with an accusing smile towards her boyfriend. Anthony shrugged and took it upon himself to help Ian sit up. "I'm sorry I didn't visit earlier. I came last week but Anthony wouldn't let me see you since you were asleep."

"Yeah, he can be really anal about some things." Ian smiled as Makayla talked on, purposely keeping his body as heavy as he could which made the act of sitting up even more difficult for Anthony. He smirked as Anthony's knuckles turned white, trying to tug the pillow behind Ian in place.

"Why are you so friggin' fat all of a sudden?" Anthony muttered too quiet for Makayla to hear.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?" Ian whispered equally quiet and bit his lip because he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"I thought you said you remembered her," Anthony fluffed the pillow too hard, gazing angrily at nothing, "I guess you didn't hit your fucking head that hard, then."

_Bitch_, Ian thought and drew his attention back to Makayla who had wheeled the table over to Ian with pancakes covered in maple sugar in front of him. She was still talking, telling Ian how glad she was that he was okay and that Anthony spent all his time with Ian while he was in his coma. Ian looked over at Anthony, face red and hands in his pocket.

Ian couldn't help the uncalled frustration that he felt for Makayla and Anthony. He stared at his pancakes as he half listened to Anthony's girlfriend and tried to find something in his memory that would put his negative feelings to justice. How could he forget about something like this? But he couldn't recall one moment with Makayla and it made Ian uneasy. He really didn't want to be here.

Anthony was staring at somewhere between Ian and Makayla with intense eyes. It wasn't until Makayla asked if Ian needed help with his food that Anthony snapped out of it, going into nurse-mode. Ian watched as Anthony automatically sat beside Ian on the bed and Ian had to look down to hide his blush and grip the cast of his arm to keep his hand from shaking. Anthony put a piece of pancake to Ian's mouth and he tentatively ate it, frowning when he felt his face grow hotter.

Ian didn't notice Makayla's stare until Anthony offered him another bite of the pancake. She looked puzzled but smiled all the same. "If only Anthony was as nice to me as he is to you, Ian."

"Oh, no, he's just really good at following orders," Ian joked awkwardly and received an unpleasant stare from Anthony.

"He can't even scratch his own ass," Anthony combated, shoving the fork into Ian's mouth.

* * *

Ian can sure piss him off sometimes. Even if Anthony knew he didn't mean it.

Anthony guessed he was relieved that Ian hadn't bought up the Morning Erection, as he liked to call it, but a part of him was also angry that Ian hadn't in any way acknowledged the fact that he had been successfully jerked off. A part of Anthony that didn't make sense at all. And the fact that Ian made Anthony look like a complete ass in front of his own girlfriend just made Anthony want to post something humiliating about Ian on Twitter.

He groaned, running his hands through his hair. He had been going through the footage they recorded the other day for an hour. Anthony kept watching each part with Ian over and over again. He could almost memorize every word that was said, every expression Ian made and every moment that made Anthony's gut wrench with worry.

Ian was acting and Anthony felt a sort of heaviness settle in him. As if Ian's off personality was his fault and it was his responsibility. Throughout filming, Anthony had tried to stir some of the old humour they had together but Ian was always so lost. He never took the cues Anthony gave him or responded to the stories he had. And Anthony always had to remind himself that Ian's mind was crumpled with empty holes in the film of his own life.

But then again, Ian had no problem joking and humiliating Anthony with Makayla, aside from the unspoken awkwardness of the whole situation. Those two were getting along and it disturbed Anthony. He couldn't remember a time when Ian in the past had wanted anything to do with Makayla. When she had come over, Ian would avoid the two of them or only spoke to them briefly. He had thought maybe Ian just wanted to give them space but when Anthony had confronted Ian, his friend had said quite blatantly that he just didn't like Makayla.

"What's wrong with her?" Anthony had asked. They were eating dinner and Anthony now longed for the days when he wasn't alone at the dinner table.

"Nothing, man" Ian had said, stuffing his face with his burrito. "I just think, I dunno, that she's not really your type."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Ugh, Anthony, can we just pretend I never said anything?" Ian wiped some of the sauce from his lips with his hand.

"Dude, you just said you didn't like her," Anthony said, crossing his arms. "How can I pretend it doesn't matter?"

"It doesn't. If you like her," Ian said, "who cares what I think?"

They hadn't spoken about the matter after that until five weeks ago. And five weeks ago, Ian had been unhurt and himself. His emotions were all over the place and Anthony found himself consorting with anger and sadness and pity like a deranged man. Ian had been so awkward during the time with Makayla. He was trying too hard which made Anthony boil with heat whenever Makayla laughed too much at Ian's lame jokes. Or when Ian would laugh even more when Makayla would say something. Makayla had left too happy, even giving Ian hug. Then there was the fact that he wouldn't let Anthony change his clothes even when he had been doing this for Ian for the past week. Ian had almost kicked the wind out of Anthony when he had made to grab for Ian's pants like he did everyday after breakfast. Ian had spluttered something about his therapist insisting he try to do it himself. But Anthony could not see Ian doing anything with a broken arm and foot and limbs that didn't move normally.

He was so tired. He sighed, bitterness crossing his breath as he watched the Ian on his computer screen. This Ian who had eyes like cold water and sunken cheeks that looked empty even with a smile. With everything happening, Anthony himself felt consumed with worry and guilt, always trying to find the Ian from before. Always looking for the Ian before the broken bones and head trauma; before the three weeks of sleep and the Ian before the night when he almost died.


	3. Chapter 3

"Barber shop pole."

"What?" Ian and Anthony were in the car in their garage after a day of signing papers and doctors giving them redundant and specific medical instructions. Including Ian's mother's constant suggestion that Ian come live with her but Anthony was able to weed her off, seeing Ian's tired reluctance at the sentiment.

"Never mind," Anthony said, releasing Ian's seat belt. "It's just some thing we did in our videos."

"I guess I should watch them, huh?"

Anthony nodded and got out to back of the car to take out the wheelchair. Ian could not walk on his own yet and it was difficult using crutches. His hands would spasm if he clenched anything for too long and his fingers would tense up under stress. Ian's broken foot was almost healed but his legs never moved right and Anthony saw his best friend struggle with that every day.

"Hey, Anthony?" Ian called, the car door opening.

"Yep?"

Anthony was able to arrange the wheelchair to fit between the car and the wall, wheeling it up next to Ian. Ian had managed to move his legs out of the car, gripping the frame of the car in exhaustion. He gave Ian a look of disapproval but he didn't reprimand Ian any further, too tired to argue after the long day at the hospital.

"Can I try getting into the chair myself?"

"No way. Look at you, man," Anthony said, making to lift Ian out of the car but his hands were pushed away, "You're tired just from that."

"Yeah, but," Ian panted, planting his good hand on the arm rest of the wheelchair. "I want to try. Please, Anthony?"

Anthony huffed, staring at Ian's pleading blue eyes. "Fine," he gave in, "just don't hurt yourself, okay?"

"Okay, mom," Ian teased, smiling. Anthony watched as Ian used his one hand to hoist himself off the seat, back bent as he stood unsteady under the car frame. Anthony was standing behind the wheelchair, itching incredibly bad to grab onto Ian as he swayed and trembled from the pressure of standing up. But Anthony wanted to see Ian do this as much as Ian wanted to succeed, so he gripped hard on the chair handles until his knuckles were tensed white.

Ian was almost there. He had only to twist himself around and sit down. Yet as Ian made to turn, his hand quivered and his fingers lost control. He almost went down face first into the metal of the wheelchair but Anthony was quick to bend over it and catch Ian's shoulders.

Ian gasped as they dangled over the chair, the wheels rolling forward as Anthony pushed himself over to him. They struggled for a bit to find their footing but eventually Anthony had walked over the chair and was gripping Ian's shoulder tight, helping him sit back down into the car. Ian's chest heaved up and down, exhaustion and surprise coming out of every breath and Anthony could see again the frustration welling up beneath his hooded eyes.

"You alright?" Anthony whispered, kneeling down in front of Ian. He could see Ian's face reddening and traces of angry tears boiling through his lashes.

"I'm fine," Ian mumbled, kneading his palm to his thigh. Anthony wondered what he should do. He was caught between consoling Ian or letting him try again because he knew Ian would want the latter but he would rather grab Ian and put him to bed where he would be safe.

It was times like this that Anthony wished he knew what to say. Ian was always the one with the jokes and the silly comments that would leave Anthony in a heap of laughter. If there was any problem, Ian would find a way to make it better. It wasn't always Anthony's role to fix things. Anthony would just worry until Ian made it okay again.

Anthony resorted to placing an awkward hand on the side of Ian's neck, wanting to pull him in for reassurance. But Ian turned his head away and pushed Anthony's hand off.

It ended up with Ian holding onto Anthony as he lowered his hurt friend into the chair. As Anthony wheeled Ian inside their home, the only sounds was the creak of the wheels and Ian's quiet sniffs.

* * *

He didn't remember everything, Ian knew that. His memory was tested the moment he entered the house and hardly knew where anything was. He saw the furniture and the rooms and he would experience a dull kind of déjà vu. It was as if everything was a long distance away and Ian's fingertips were only grazing the surface of everything, if not anything.

The night of the accident was one of the biggest blanks in his web of memories. He would only recall everything through people describing it to him, the articles that had been written and the doctors who talked about his injuries. Anthony never spoke to him about it and Ian felt inside of him that his friend didn't want to, even if Anthony had been the only person to see all of it firsthand.

Ian was in his room and had been watching Smosh videos for the past hour. As he went through the videos of himself and Anthony, he found himself caught between laughing hysterically and wanting to stop watching all together.

He liked seeing Anthony on screen. He liked listening and seeing themselves banter around each other without a care in the world. Ian could vaguely remember making these videos, being over the top and almost in a way, fighting to be funny. And Ian wanted badly to be like this again.

But every time he would snatch the confidence to be the quirky and funny Ian, one look at Anthony's still face would bring Ian back to reality. It wasn't the same anymore.

"Hey Charlie," Ian said, feeding his guinea pig a pellet as Charlie rested calmly on the table. "You're still the same, right?"

Charlie only took the pellet, chewing on it frantically. Ian sighed and paused the video he was watching. He couldn't watch anymore if it meant always feeling this empty pit of desperation every time. He wheeled himself with one arm towards his bed and tentatively stood up. He managed to flop sideways onto his bed with his useless legs dangling over the edge.

Ian heaved a loud groan, dragging his broken left foot atop of the covers. Anthony had gone out to pick up Makayla from work, promising to be back in time for Ian's bath. Ian's cheeks reddened at the thought, dreading every night when Anthony would fill the tub with water and ease a naked Ian into it. He assumed that this is what seniors felt every bath time; exposed and helpless.

He hadn't complained as much when the nurses at the hospital would wash him but it was different with Anthony. There was a level of comfort with being naked in front of his best friend but once Anthony would touch his bare skin, it would grow several notches past awkward. And the first time, he had had to cover himself with a wet towel because when Anthony went to scrub his back, Ian's body instantly remembered that one incident in the morning.

Thank God Ian was able to convince Anthony that he could wash himself and only needed help in and out of the tub.

Ian heard the garage door opening and the sound of the engine turning off. He grew still, trying to hear if it was only Anthony or Makayla as well.

"Ian?" Anthony called, as if in the short half hour he was gone, Ian could have moved himself anywhere else other than where Anthony had left him last. "Hey, man," He heard Anthony say at the doorway. "Makayla made some cupcakes. Want some?"

Anthony walked over to where Ian lay, holding a container of cupcakes. They were decorated with blue frosting and white sprinkles; blue being his favourite colour as Ian suddenly remembered.

"Is Makayla here?"

"No, why?" Anthony said, kneeling down and holding out a cupcake for Ian. "I just dropped her off at home. That's it." Ian shrugged and tried to grab it but the cupcake was already in front of his mouth. Anthony practically forced Ian to eat it and he mentally sighed to himself wishing Anthony would let him do some things on his own. "I'll go get the bath ready."

Ian managed to swallow before Anthony could shove another cupcake in his face. "Can we skip that tonight? Um, I'm really tired."

Anthony agreed. "You gotta clean your face though."

Ian nodded and his face heated up as Anthony swiped his fingers over Ian's mouth, catching left over frosting and sprinkles. He didn't look at Anthony, too preoccupied with the heat not only spreading over his face but down to his stomach. What was wrong with him?

"I'll be right back."

Once Anthony had left the room, Ian buried his face into his pillow. Things were getting out of hand. He knew Anthony was trying to help him but sometimes he could be too much. It was bad enough that every time Ian needed anything, to move or eat or even just turn on the television, Anthony would be there and too close; too eager to help him.

And Ian was developing feelings. Strange and uncomfortable things that made Ian cringe in fear and smile with contentment. He didn't know whether to yell and scream or just push it down and hope for it to disappear. He was so confused and Ian wanted badly to be certain of something, anything.

"Here." Anthony was back and took Ian's face in his hands and started wiping him with the warm wet cloth. "Guess you should shave tomorrow."

"Right," Ian said, distracted by Anthony's concentrated face. The cloth slid around Ian's cheeks and then softly along his jaw. Ian closed his eyes as Anthony wiped around his forehead. His mind wandered back to that morning in the hospital and how Anthony's face was so relaxed in his sleep. And then how his eyelids had quivered and his mouth opened as he moved against Ian. Ian, catching himself in his unwanted thoughts, grabbed Anthony's wrist hard, his fingers singeing when he felt skin. Anthony stopped, slightly startled.

"What?"

Ian blanched, mouth opening and closing. "Uh..." he fumbled, "Charlie! He's out of his cage."

Anthony looked behind him. "Oh," he said, standing up and away from Ian to pick up the rodent. "Gross, he pooped all over your desk."

Ian forced out a nervous chuckle as Anthony made a face and put Charlie back into his cage. He left the room, holding the brown droplets in the washcloth and complaining. Ian moved onto his back and wiped his face with a shaking sweaty hand.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

* * *

It was two in the morning and Anthony could not sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to stop his racing thoughts. But his mind kept replaying the conversation he had had with Makayla in the car.

"Can I stay over tonight?"

"Tonight?"

Makayla gave him a face as Anthony looked over at her. "Yes, dummy. Tonight."

"Um," Anthony began, making a turn. Sacramento was completely dark at seven in the evening and few cars drove past. "I have to take Ian to therapy first thing in the morning, though."

"So? I'll come with you guys."

"Are you sure? It's pretty boring." Anthony watched out of the corner of his eye as Makayla fiddled with the radio. "I mean, he can get pretty angry sometimes. And he might feel, I don't know, weird with you there. Uh, not that I don't think it's a good idea. It's just... y'know..."

Anthony stopped when Makayla turned off the radio. He felt the air tense as she turned her head, looking out the window.

"What about next week? I think Ian's mom wants him over at her place. His casts are coming off."

"Sure, whatever," she said a little bitter, "Next week. And then Ian's going to need help walking and, oh, he'll feel weird if I'm there."

There was a silence as Anthony stopped at a red light. He bit back a frustrated sigh. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." He stepped on the gas too quickly as they lurched forward. "Look, Ian's just having a rough time and –"

"And you have to play mommy to him like he's some retard special needs kid."

"What the _fuck_, Kay?" He pulled over at the side of the highway and rapidly turned towards Makayla. She was still staring out the window, unfazed by the sudden stop. "What's your problem?"

"What's my problem?" Makayla turned to face Anthony, the seatbelt keeping her from biting his head. "My problem is that you've completely forgotten about me these past _seven weeks_. That's a long time, Anthony. It's always Ian this and Ian that. It was a real bitch even asking you to drive me home tonight."

"Are you fucking insane?" Anthony's voice rose as he shut off the engine, the sound from it angering him even more. The keys were thrown harshly into the cup holders between them. "I'm driving you home right now, aren't I? What the hell do you want?"

"You're such an asshole. You don't even know anything." Makayla made to open the door but Anthony was quick to grab her arm. "Let go of me!"

"No! Are you out of your mind? What's gotten into you?"

Anthony was seething with anger and it took him the will power of a dam holding onto a raging river not to dig his nails in Makayla's arm until she bruised. She fought with him, punching him in the chest and slapping him at the neck.

"Let go! You're hurting me!"

He let her go this time, genuinely afraid that he might actually be. A moment after she was free, Makayla was out the door, walking hurriedly down the side of the black highway.

Anthony cursed and got out of the car too, jogging to catch up with his girlfriend. "Makayla!"

"Go away."

"Get back in the car! It's dangerous!" Cars were roaring past them, their headlights granting momentary light to the darkness of the night. "Makayla!"

He grunted and jogged faster. Makayla turned around with her arms crossed and face angry and pale in the cold and Anthony came to a halt. She stayed like that for a while, looking at the ground. "I'm jealous, alright?" she whispered quiet and Anthony almost lost her words to the wind. "Before the accident, you always spent your time doing Smosh and now that Ian's... like that... you spend even more of your time with him."

"Makayla... It's just Ian."

She hugged herself tighter, wiping away tears. "It's just Ian. Right, but—" She sighed and didn't say anything more on the matter. She slapped her hands to her sides. "I'm just so... angry. And I know, it's selfish. But I can't stop that."

Anthony felt so guilty and even as he took her into his arms, promising things would be better, his mind had circled back to Ian who was alone at home with broken bones and memories. And even when he dropped her off, Makayla sniffling and smiling through the tears with a box of cupcakes in her hands, he wanted badly to go home and make sure Ian was okay.

He threw the covers away from his body, feeling constricted all the while thinking back to everything that had happened in the past month and a half. He didn't like being away from Ian too long and he was always keeping an ear and an eye out for him, afraid that in an instant, his friend would be on the ground again, bloodied and not breathing.

Anthony clenched his eyes shut, trying frantically to get rid of the images in his mind. But it was hard to close your eyes to a memory.

He gave up and sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Was this what happens when you almost lose somebody? What happens if you actually do? Anthony could not let himself think any further.

Maybe he'll just check up on Ian and make sure everything was okay. Sometimes Ian would toss in his sleep and wake up in a way that would hurt his back all day. Anthony could move Ian to a better position.

He walked slowly out of this room, feeling the walls as he came to Ian's door. The streetlight shadowed his body over the washed white of the door. He quietly turned the knob and snaked into the room, careful that the door didn't creak.

Ian was lying on his back, quiet snores emitting around the room. His hair was fluffed and messy with the side of Ian's face buried in the pale blue pillows. Anthony hesitated, seeing that Ian was fine but he sat onto the foot of the bed anyway. It was another few moments of staring at Ian before Anthony completely laid himself beside his sleeping friend.

He told himself he was only going to be there for a minute in case Ian decided to wake up. He told himself that again after ten minutes and even moved the hair covering Ian's forehead. Anthony let his eyes close, telling himself once again, he would wake up in a few minutes and go back to his own bed.

* * *

_Not this again,_ was the first thought that filtered through Ian's head when he woke up next to Anthony. Fortunately, Ian was able to gather his senses together and stop himself from doing anything he would regret. Seeing Anthony beside him had scared him enough that he was wide awake now.

Ian didn't know what to make of this. Anthony was always where he was these days. At the hospital, he would never fail to show up every day and stay for hours, giving Ian maybe half a day of Anthony-free time. And now that they were living at home, Anthony was there all the time.

Ian wondered if Anthony had any other friends to be with, ones that Ian didn't know and would only want to see Anthony. But as he thought about it more, going through faces of the people he remembered, Ian did not have one friend that wasn't friends with Anthony as well. They had all visited, threw a sort of impromptu party the day after Ian was out of the hospital. It was nice to see everyone smiling and happy, drinking and talking about nonsense. They had all tried to make Ian feel 'normal'; telling stories and jokes that only their group would know. For a while, it had warmed Ian that he had so many friends who he loved and cared about, but after the bliss of the party and he and Anthony were alone, the empty lost feeling of being a stranger had crashed down onto him again.

He appreciated Anthony's presence and Ian knew if it was not for his best friend who did everything for him willingly, Ian would not be as well as he is now. Anthony had given Ian a chance at fitting back into his life.

But sometimes Ian would wonder if Anthony were less protective, less worried and gave Ian room to breathe, this unspoken tension between them would dissipate. And then truly, Ian could become himself, or at least the person he thought he should be.

"Hey, you're awake," Anthony said groggily, startling Ian out of his thoughts. He rolled onto his back and rubbed the sleep out his eyes. Ian watched as Anthony stretched his back like a slow cat and he gulped, conflicting feelings tackling his body. Anthony kept on stretching and yawning and there was no blanket to cover him. He fought a blush from creeping up his neck by turning his head to the other side and away from Anthony's writhing body.

"Uh, yeah..." Ian managed to say, pulling together the blankets around him. What was Anthony doing here?

Anthony yawned again, "I couldn't sleep and went to check up on you."

"Oh..." Ian said with fidgeting fingers. This was very awkward and Anthony seemed to have finally stilled his distracting body movements. A terse silenced followed and then Ian whipped his head around with accusing eyes. "Wait, why the hell are you in my bed?"

He narrowed his eyes and Anthony furrowed his brows before shrugging nonchalantly. "Uh... I just fell asleep, I guess."

"Right..." Ian was a little sceptical, of what he wasn't quite sure. "Did we have sleepovers in each other's beds before or something?"

"No, of course not," Anthony scoffed, "I was just tired."

"Thought you said you couldn't sleep."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Yeah, this isn't weird at all," Ian said sarcastically. "Are you lonely, Anthony, is that why? Maybe you need Makayla here more often to, yknow..." Ian waggled his eyebrows suggestively but Anthony only rolled his eyes, thumping him on the head.

"Shut up."

Ian smiled, feeling like the awkward tension was draining away. The two of them talked for a bit about things that Ian wouldn't be able to remember in a few days. Just unimportant things that filled Ian with warmth and calmed his yearning for normalcy.

"You know, I kind of lied about remembering Makayla," Ian bought up out of the blue after deciding what they would eat for lunch that day. They would also see if Ian wanted to film some Lunchtime if he wasn't too tired from therapy. "I didn't want to look like an idiot." Ian shrugged. "Truth is, I can't remember a thing about her."

"Oh?" was all Anthony said and Ian looked over at him, expecting a louder response. Anthony was staring at the ceiling, expression unreadable. They grew quiet while Ian racked his brain for any memories of the girl.

"Yeah, nothing," Ian said after a few moments. "Sorry, man."

He frowned at this. Why couldn't he remember anything about Makayla? How did the two meet? How long have they been together? Were they just dating or were they something serious? These and many other thoughts put a knot in Ian's stomach and something like dread pushed at his throat.

"It's alright," Anthony sat up. "The doc said you're still going to have trouble remembering things."

"But I'd like to think I would remember my best friend's_ girlfriend_, Anthony." Ian made to sit up, only succeeding in resting on his good elbow. He saw Anthony shrug and slump forward.

"Whatever, it's no big deal."

Ian felt bad and it seemed like Anthony was upset that he didn't remember Makayla. "Why don't we ask her to have lunch with us today? Maybe you two can tell me how you guys met?"

Anthony didn't answer him right away. "Nah, that's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Just leave it, Ian. Alright?" Anthony hopped off the bed. He stopped at the doorway and turned around with an unsteady hand on the door. Anthony stared at him heavily and opened his mouth to say something but closed it and averted his gaze.

Ian fell back into his pillow when Anthony left, clenching his fist and staring at the ceiling in complete loss.

He thought maybe he said something wrong and now Anthony was going to ignore him. But then he heard the sound of running water in the tub and Anthony's voice asking him where his damn razor was.


End file.
